


we could be enough

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Oh god, I am–I am so sorry–”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” says the guy, and wow his eyes are the prettiest eyes she has ever seen. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’m sorry. I had the sun in my eyes.”</i>
</p><p>or: a reunion of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could be enough

**Author's Note:**

> first written as a flash fic on tumblr! okay, granted, it took thirty minutes, but still. pls enjoy.

It starts like this: Eliza’s running late for her class, cursing her alarm clock under her breath, not watching where she’s going. Professor Greenberg is going to kill her, she thinks, for being so late, or mark her absent with that _tsk_ -ing noise he makes that students have learned to fear.

Then she rounds a corner, and sees the green-clad man and his Starbucks coffee far, far too late.

Things go flying. Coffee gets spilled.

“Oh my god,” says Eliza, eyes widening, “oh god, I am–I am _so sorry_ –”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” says the guy, and _wow_ his eyes are the prettiest eyes she has ever seen, if this were under better circumstances, she'd let herself drown in them. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, I’m sorry. I had the sun in my eyes.”

 _And what pretty eyes you have,_ Eliza does not say, because this guy is a stranger she just ran into and also his coffee is all over his shirt and she's _late_ , dammit. “I wasn’t watching where I was going either,” she confesses. “I’m running late for a class.”

“Let me guess,” says the guy, picking up some of her fallen files and eyeing her professor's name scrawled on them, “Greenberg?”

“How’d you know?”

“You have the terrified look his students tend to have,” says the guy. “Let me walk with you, I’ll talk to him, Miss…” He trails off.

“Scholer,” says Eliza. “Elizabeth Scholer.”

“Alexander Hamilton,” says the guy, and Eliza snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know, like the guy on the ten-dollar bill. I promise we aren’t related, my mom just saw the opportunity and took it.” He smiles, and that’s it, Eliza’s doomed. “Besides, there’s a million things I still haven’t done.”

( _Rewind–_

The sun was in his eyes, in a way. It’s not everyday your wife in a life you’re trying not to think about barrels into you and spills your coffee all over your shirt.

He lets out a yelp, readies a harsh and stinging query along the lines of “ _watch where the fuck you're going_ ”, but then Eliza looks up at him and god help Alexander Hamilton, because he _knows_ those dark eyes, and any anger he might've had evaporates almost on the spot.

“Oh my god,” she’s saying, and God, she looks ready to have a small meltdown in the middle of the sidewalk, “oh god, I am–I am _so sorry_ –”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” says Alexander, wringing out the coffee from his shirt. “I wasn’t watching where I was going either. I had the sun in my eyes.” Somewhere, Lafayette, wherever and whoever the fuck he is now, is laughing at him, because the actual sun is hidden behind one of New York's characteristic soaring skyscrapers.

He bends down to pick up some of the files that fell when they collided, takes note of the meticulous way they’re organized, and of the professor’s name. Greenberg–he’s met the guy before. He’s gotten into a huge argument with the guy before, about how America’s founding fathers would react badly to the changes that had happened.

As someone who remembers being one of those founding fathers, Alexander’s pretty sure Greenberg is just being a dickbag. Highly probable, the guy’s favorite historical figure is fucking _Jefferson._

“Let me guess: Greenberg?”

“How’d you know?” she asks, wearing a slightly terrified look. Yep, definitely Greenberg’s class.

“You have the terrified look his students tend to have after half a semester with him,” he says, then, because he can’t leave well enough alone: “Let me walk with you, I’ll talk to him, Miss…” He trails off, and for the first time it occurs to him–is Eliza still _Eliza_ now? After all, not everyone he knew then has the same names now: for fuck's sake, Mulligan's first name is _Archibald_ , no wonder he goes by Herc instead.

“Scholer,” she says, “Elizabeth Scholer,” and Alexander grins. It's close enough to make no difference.

“Alexander Hamilton,” he says.)

**Author's Note:**

> my tags for this on [the original post](http://buckygreyjoy.tumblr.com/post/131384857553/flash-fic-challenge) were: #lbr hamilton is downplaying things here he and greenberg got into an epic shouting match in class #it's gone way past 'argument' when you work a whole night on a powerpoint that is literally #all about why your prof is totally wrong #(with sources!) #and then come into class the next day and present it to the whole class
> 
> so.


End file.
